Silent Hill: Promise
by unset city
Summary: Kelsey never imagined what would await her in Room 302, and the consequences that would result. The blood, the darkness... She only knew to try to save her sister, even if it meant dying. The horrors of room 302...can you handle them?


Silent Hill: Promise

Chapter One: Confinement

Disclaimer: In no way do I feel that I own this plot--my characters, however are my own.

a/n: This story means the most to me than any other story. It's not original--I just replaced Henry and Eileen, but this is my very first story ever, revamped. I started writing it at 14, and it literally inpired me to write more. I absolutely adore it no matter what, just because to me its been so epic. I appreciate you reading this, really, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Kelsey was the first ever character I thought of as my own, and she matters to me, so please be gentle on her. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy it, although I'll admit, this chapter isn't so interesting; it's just the start of it all!

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Everything was completely silent, completely morphed. The walls, the furniture, the ceiling—every inch of her apartment had become a bloody mess, unrecognizable and sickening, the blood leaving a burning metallic scent hanging in the air, staining the silence.

She stood in the bedroom, facing the chipped white door: the only way out. It, unlike the rest of the apartment, had the deceptive appearance of normalcy, the blood somehow having not reached the worn white painted wood. And because it appeared so normal, so untainted in appearance, one would never believe that it led to something bad, to something worse than the hellhole of a room she was standing in then, this bloodied bedroom that had been hers. But Kelsey Townshend knew better.

Behind that chipped white door there was more blood, more horrors of the unnatural sort, and it mocked her. She wished that she couldn't have to go through it, this gateway to hell, but there was no other choice; only one way to escape…

And so, ignoring the blood that coated the floor and sloshed around her feet, she slowly, regretfully, yanked the damn door open, the blood following her like a shadow as she made her way down the small two room hallway, towards the living space. And there, of course it didn't get any better. The couch, the TV, the bookcase—blood practically oozed out of them, dripping down the already soaked walls. Kelsey didn't even bother to grimace anymore.

There was no front door; when she turned to look where it should have been, she saw only a blood stained wall that seemed to look almost as though…Almost as though it was covered in flesh. But flesh could not be on a wall… Her pounding heart told her otherwise as she remembered how much was possible now. She turned away before it could get worse.

Behind the couch was a portrait, one she had never seen before. Because it stood out, an oddity in this already mixed up place, she found herself drawn to it, moving closer and closer until she could see it clearly.

It depicted a gruesome scene—rather befitting for the room. In it 21 bodies lay bleeding around a burning fire in a dark wood, the shadows seeming to flicker before her eyes the longer she stared. Underneath the shadows, the burning flames that illuminated the tortured faces, read the title: "21 Sacraments." And for some reason, it sent shivers down her spine, more so than the dead faces. 21 Sacraments…For some reason she just had to move away.

As she began to walk towards her tiny kitchen, something else caught her eye, and she turned, paled. A giant ripple of heat seemed to coil inside of the apartment for a moment, and she felt it respond in the frantic beats of her heart. The heat seemed to turn, fix on a point in the wall, on the wall, that began to pulsate, squirm with a life that should not be possible. Above the end table by the couch, the indentation of a man's face—twisted in agony—began to push through the wall, socket less eyes stretching, a ghastly moan ripping the air apart even more as his neck tried to stretch out, the wall began to peel away to reveal pale flesh flecked in blood, the decayed right side of the mouth where the jaw protruded, snapping at her as his black eyes landed on her, spotting her immediately.

Stunned, dizzy, overcome she fell back against the island counter, unable to hold herself up as she crumpled to the ground with a splash of blood, motionless, wide eyes focused on the man, this dead man, who was slowly, faster and faster, emerging completely from the hole that had been gashed in her wall. She was shivering, but she didn't notice, didn't feel her own numbing fear, hear her screams of horror. What was—

Blood rained from the walls, the ceiling, turning her vision red as everything seemed to flicker, turning black and then white with the pulses of the heart. The man—the thing—was above the ground, completely out of the wall, blank black eyes fixed on her as he bent his spine back at an unnatural angle, and she could see, beneath his tattered shirt, pieces of his ribs protruding from the decayed flesh of his chest. The bile rose and everything was spinning…

Malevolent eyes watched her, approached her on legs that didn't move, bottomless mouth opening, splitting his jaw even more as he moaned out in agony, in such a way that she was struck, her body falling all the way back on the ground, completely at this things mercy, her heart the only thing she heard over the moans, the silence…

Unearthly moans tearing from bloody lips, the blood hot on her body, cold throughout her veins as bottomless eyes seemed to suck her in, the stench of his rotting body blending with the metallic blood in the perfectly horrible way that they went together.

Closer and closer he spun, moaning through his blood, her blood, as he reached out a hand, fingers missing, the hand of death, towards her, reaching, reaching…

And the pallid face—the death's head—was the last thing she saw as she inhaled the scent of death one last time before she was gone, and there was nothing left.

--

Her eyes opened to complete darkness. For a moment she lost herself in her confusion; where was she? She remembered only fragments, flashes of images that she wished she could repress. The dead man…the blood…Where was it? He had been reaching for her…

But it didn't matter now, she realized; he was gone now, all of it was. Kelsey was back in her apartment room, laying face down on her bed. There was no longer any blood, no more frightening pictures, or floating dead men—it had all been a dream, as usual.

Groaning, she pushed herself up, rubbing the last images of her dream out of her eyes as she rolled over to face the ceiling. There was now light, thin clear strips of it pouring in through the bedroom windows to highlight the room faintly. From her position on her back all she could see was the cracked ceiling—painted unsightly beige—and a broken ceiling fan. Although that wasn't really what she saw.

Kelsey was too busy recounting her dream, that disturbing dream, to see anything else. Since arriving in Silent Hill five days earlier, ever since she had checked into Room 302 of South Ashfield Heights, she had been plagued by the same nightmare. She knew that it shouldn't have been that big of a deal, but…But it always felt so…real.

Even now, wide awake in her sunny bedroom, she still felt her heart racing, the remnants of the horror she had felt still pulling at her soul. She could almost—of she closed her eyes—still feel the hot blood sticking to her body, dripping from her hair into her eyes as she fell at the mercy of that…creature. The first few nights of the dream she had tried to brush it off, but now… It was too frequent, too real to just be a dream now. It was almost…foreboding, the feeling she got from it now. As if…

No, she had to stop this. The dream was simply that—a dream. Nothing more and nothing less. She needed to just stop being so paranoid and get up, dammit, it had to be midday already! Feeling better now, Kelsey took her advice to heart and rolled out of bed, stretching out her body with a smile before going to her closet to find the perfect comfy outfit. It was a nice lazy day, so she decided on a pair of simple jeans and a white camisole, sighing at the feel of the clothes on her skin as she grabbed a ponytail holder and twisted her disheveled black hair into a messy bun.

Leaving her bedroom with a small smile on her face, Kelsey tried to shake off a feeling of dread as she entered her living space, deciding that a cup of tea might chase the unreasonable dread away. She was just being paranoid still, she told herself as she took the cup and tea packet from the tiny kitchen cabinets. She was humming as she started a pot of water to boil, forcing the feeling of contentment through her—this was her vacation, she had to just relax!

She had read about Silent Hill on the internet one day by chance, and had been instantly intrigued by its supernatural history. Silent Hill was most notorious for being a haunted town with many mysteries—two things that personally fascinated Kelsey. It was a small town that seemed quaint and laid back—the perfect place to go to escape the pressures of life back home. Back home in her town of Bullworth life had started to become more and more hectic, and so—since it was summer—she had decided to treat herself to a tiny vacation before college started up again.

Her younger sister Sabrina—also pressured by the life in Bullworth—had accompanied her to Silent Hill, and as luck would have it two rooms were available right next to one another in South Ashfield—rooms 302 and 303. Kelsey had not hesitated in renting them. And so, on a dreary morning 5 days ago, the sisters had packed up and headed to Silent Hill, arriving in less time than they had thought possible in the seemingly normal small town. There were little shops lining the roads, a town park, a town hospital… The authentic quality of the town had made Kelsey smile; everything seemed so original, as though not a thing in the town had changed since it had first been built…

They had arrived at their hotel in the rain, smiling as they unloaded their luggage and trudged up to their rooms. The door to Room 302 had opened without a problem. And so their idle vacation had begun. Their rooms were nice if not slightly run down contemporary style apartments consisting of a kitchenette, living space, laundry room, bathroom and bedroom; all the things necessary for a home. But… even though Room 302 appeared like every other apartment she had been in, Kelsey found—for some unknown reason—that she simply could not feel that comfortable in the room. To her there seemed as though…something were lurking in the air, something unidentifiable, and paired with the nightmare she had been having…She just preferred to spend her time in Sabrina's room, where she felt safe, even though she knew that her fears were just ridiculous.

Afraid of a room…How laughable! In fact, as she stirred in her tea packet, wondering if perhaps the rainy weather that had occurred over the past 5 days had gone to her head. Here it was, her first sunny day in Silent Hill, and she was brooding over pointless things! The dream meant nothing, and her unease was probably just caused from being in a new place. She hadn't left Bullworth in so long, and so this was all too new to her, that was all.

God she wished she could believe that…

Annoyed with herself, she picked up her steaming cup of dark tea, moving out of the kitchenette to the living room with it until the glint of something shining caught her eye. Turning, she followed the glint to the front door, her mind behind her as she stared for a moment, taking it all in… And then she screamed, the piercing sound followed by a dull thud as her hot cup of tea fell from her limp fingers to spill on the carpet at her feet.

Her front door looked the same—same white, chipped wood, same tiny black peephole. But it was what was around the door, winding across it, that was so shocking, that made her blood freeze in her veins. Chains, thick and shining in the sunlight, snaked across the white wood, five of them in total, kept up by five padlocks hanging from steel hooks around her door, firmly placed into the wall. And in the center of it all, beneath the chains, right under to peephole, standing out against the white wood in bright red letters, was a message. 'Never Leave—Walter Sullivan.'

It was impossible, improbable. Her door chained up… From the _inside! _It was…It was just…She didn't…In a state of shock that seemed to paralyze her she approached it, almost stepping in the burning puddle of dark tea on the floor as she did so. Her hand was shaking as she reached out to touch one of the padlocks, the chains. It was cold under her fingers, hard and solid and so goddamn real, too real…REAL.

She jerked her hand back as though it had been scalded, stepping back away from the blocked door to stare at it, simply gape at it. Was this some kind of a prank or something? Some kind of illusion? No…it couldn't be that, not when she had felt it just a second ago, that cold metal on her hand—they had to be real, all of it—even though she wished to God that it wasn't.

And the message on the door, written by some man named Walter Sullivan… 'Never Leave.' She shivered, her eyes staring at that blood red message, wishing it would vanish if she stared at it long enough. Instead she could have sworn she saw one of the letters drop a little, run down the white wood in a thin droplet that appeared to be…Seemed to be blood.

Did this mean that she was trapped here? A prisoner in her own room? She reached out again, grabbed one of those thick chains and pulled. It rattled, but did not move; the padlocks stayed, tragically locked. She wanted to scream.

Thinking that maybe she could attract the attention of someone walking down the hallway outside her door, she began to pound her fists on the door hard enough to make the chains rattle and clank. Peering through the peephole to the small hallway outside, she hoped to see someone—anyone—walking by. But all she saw, against the wall opposite her door, was 15 bloody handprints staining the off white wall red. Gasping she jerked her head away from the peephole to rest her forehead on the cold, white door next to the chains that barred her way. How the hell had those handprints gotten there?! They were made of blood… They were as mysterious and chilling as the chains in padlocks…This Walter Sullivan had a sick sense of humor!

…If this even was a joke, that is; Kelsey's racing heart told her it wasn't. Her only hope was that either someone would walk by her door and see the obvious bloody handprints, or at least hear her desperate pounding on the door and get help. Someone had to notice…But why hadn't Sabrina heard her yet then? Her room was right next to Kelsey's, and the walls were no doubt thin. Why wasn't she running out into the hallway to see what was wrong? She slammed her fists again into the door until they began to ache, listening as the loud sound she made echoed back at her. It was loud enough…

"Sabrina? Anyone? Can you hear me?" she called, hearing only her own voice echoing back to her in reply. She checked the peephole again and still saw no signs of life. It made chills come over her. What if—

At that instance a large crashing sound split the silence and Kelsey, her nerves already wound too tight, could not help jumping and screaming at the top of her lungs, falling away from the door. What the _hell _had that been!? It almost sounded as though it had come from inside her apartment…She tensed, her breath freezing in her lungs. Could this Walter Sullivan, the man who had done all of this, still be inside of her apartment? The chains, after all, were on the inside of her door…

She swallowed hard, fought to keep her breath from exploding from her in panicked gasps as she tried to think. She only knew that no matter what she had to check out that noise, and fast; with her door chained up there was no way to call the police, and besides, the only phone in the apartment was in her bedroom—she'd have to walk down the hallway towards that sound to get to it. She knew that the person—if it really was Walter—had to be either in her bathroom or her bedroom; she would have seen if anyone had gotten into her laundry room.

Moving as quietly as she could manage, she went into her kitchen and opened a counter drawer, drawing out the sharpest knife as she could find—a butcher's knife. She watched the long sharp blade glitter in the sunlight for a minute, and felt a rush of reassurance. At least she had some protection… Holding the deadly weapon out in front of her with both hands, she began to slowly making her way down the short hallway, taking it a step at a time the entire way.

The air seemed to thicken as she reached the closed bathroom door, pressing her body up against the wall beside it as she removed one sweaty hand from the knife's hilt to grab the cold doorknob. It was wet beneath her fingers, and seemed so damn cold…Inside her chest her heart began to pound even faster and her hands were trembling so bad that it was hard for her to turn the doorknob.

When it finally clicked open she could only wait, tense, for a second to move. Nothing could be heard except the heavy, pressing silence, the kind that seemed suspended, that seemed to ring in her ears. God she hated silence…

It was time to break it. After waiting in anticipation outside the door for a whole minute, waiting anxiously for anything to happen, she began to slowly move, pushing the door opened with the tip of her knife as she stepped into the chilled bathroom, her eyes constantly searching, darting around…

The room looked the same as ever in the silence; the same frosty tiles, the same deep bathtub, the toilet, the sink… But there was one, none-to-subtle difference: a large gaping hole in the wall. It was blasted into the wall to her left, positioned between the sink and the toilet. The crumbling remains of the tiles and the wall lay innocently beneath it, the source of the crash as she shakily took a step forward, hardly believing her eyes as she inspected it, taking in each unbelievable detail.

It was jagged around the edges, and a few feet wide; certainly big enough for a man to fit through. A man… She was breaking down; she knew she was. She hadn't yet decided on whether she should be amazed or terrified. Her thoughts were lost to her, her body and mind numb; all she could think of was 'wow'. Wow to the door being chained up, the bloody hand prints, this hole in her bathroom wall…

She peered through it, struck dumb when she saw only a swirling darkness. It should have gone through to room 301, but it…didn't. There was only darkness and as she reached out to carefully touch a corner of it, she could have sworn she heard a sound, the sound of screams, of weeping…

Letting out a strangled yelp, she stumbled back away from it, that dark hole with its mysterious depths that threatened to suck her in. She nearly fell into her bathtub as the words—those voices—grew louder, and her wide eyes could only stare, her face could only grow paler. It was a woman's voice, whispering incoherent sounds that could have been curses, blessings, which sounded so sinister, so dark…

That was when the panic broke through the shock, and she could no longer think of all of this. She did not look at the hole again as she fled from the bathroom and the whispering voices that broke the silence, running blindly back into the living room to collapse on the couch in a heap of quivering limbs and gasping breaths. Her eyes stayed trained on the way she had just come—that open bathroom door—as she half expected something to come running out at her, something to have chased her down the hallway, but she was alone in the room.

Her trembling became worse as she sank back against the couch cushions, still wearily watching the hallway, the bathroom door. Everything remained still and silent for awhile as she struggled to overcome that familiar panic that was now reluctant to let her go. No one was coming after her, she tried to assure herself, and maybe this was all a dream and the hole in the bathroom, the voices, were all just part of that nightmare, a new twist on the old one…

But when she looked at the door, saw the chains snaking across it, gleaming in the sunlight, and she knew that it couldn't possibly be a dream. The breath bursting through her lungs was too real, as was the heart pounding away in her chest, tattooing her ribcage. Her own labored breathing broke the silence as she brought a shaking hand to her face, her forehead, her cheek; was she breaking down? Was she hallucinating? Maybe her body was really unconscious on the floor, hooked up to machines in a hospital somewhere.

Her eyes drifted to the dark stain on her carpet, the white cup lying next to it that her tea had been in. The tea—the dark stained it left—suddenly looked like blood to her eyes, and she had to look away, burying her hurting head in her hands as she contemplating just going to sleep. To forget it all… She wished that she could just do that, forget the voices, the hole, the chains… But she knew that that was an impossibility; she just had seen too much, gone too far already…

She knew that she could not just ignore that hole in her bathroom; as hard as she tried to forget it, it was too strange to be ignored. She had a feeling that inside the black depths it held she might just find the answer as to the bloody handprints on the wall outside the door, why her door was chained up on the inside, but she was afraid to look further into it. 'Never leave—Walter Sullivan'; wasn't that threat enough?

She was caught inside some supernatural trap, and it was impossible to ignore it when she was the victim. There was only one thing to do now, only one thing…

As the sun disappeared behind the clouds and cast the apartment in shadows, she knew what she had to do. Forcing herself to her feet, she reached down to pick up the butcher's knife at her feet that she had dropped in her blind panic, and placed it on the kitchen counter. She hesitated for a second to stare at it, eyeing the sharp tip. It looked so cruel in the shadows; had she really thought a few minutes ago that that would save her? A small point that could only puncture the body in one area… It wasn't good enough for where she was going.

She wandered over to the windows for a second, living on one last hope as she pressed her fists against the glass, staring out at the apartment complex—also part of South Ashfield Heights—across from her in the hopes of finding someone who she could catch the attention of.

After being in the apartment for 5 days, and being trapped in it most of the time due to the rainy weather, she had had plenty of chances to spy on her neighbors that lived across from her. The woman of 309 did aerobics way too much in Kelsey's opinion, and the man of 307 was on life support. The man of 206 was involved in a passionate affair with a woman she knew was not his wife and the man of 207 liked to sit in his big leather chair in front of his TV and throw popcorn at the screen in frustration.

She knew that she shouldn't have been that involved in other people's business, but the people who occupied South Ashfield Heights really were amusing. Of course, she noticed none of that now as she pounded her already abused fists on the cold glass—an oddity all in itself for summer—and hoped that someone would hear her. The parking lot between the buildings was empty at the moment, and she tried to pull the window up from the sill…only to find that it refused to budge.

Feeling another chill creep over her she tugged even harder, desperate to get the window open, to get fresh air, to scream…But it refused to move. Puzzled and growing more frightened by the second, she began to pound harder on the glass window, wondering how long it would take for it to shatter under her forceful blows. Pretty soon she was almost punching the glass, and still…still it did not break. The panic was spreading, widespread throughout her body, sending vibrations only she could see throughout the room.

The only person in sight stood by the road to the right of the apartment building at the subway entrance, smoking a cigarette. Although Kelsey could only see a little bit of her, she could already tell that she was showing way too much tanned skin, her skirt—striped and thin—entirely too short on her as she smoked a cigarette. She knew that the woman was far too away from her to hear her, and so she knew that for the moment she had to give up her hope. She drew her eyes away from the slut to look back at her room, still unchanged even after all she had gone through. Her fists throbbed repeatedly as she sank down against the bookcase next to the window, trapped between that and a rundown armchair. She wished she could pick herself up from the floor and face the only option she had left, but she was starting to shake again, knowing what it meant.

The unknown had always scared her, and that hole in the wall…It was as mysterious and so damn dark: two perfect things to terrify her. Kelsey had always considered herself a strong person, one who supported her two siblings, Sabrina and David. She wished they were with her now to travel through that hole with her, to reassure her. She wished that she could see Sabrina, wished that she was with her—as selfish as it was—to face what ever it was that was happening with her.

There was nothing more to do but go through it…

And the sooner she did, hopefully the sooner the fear would dissipate form inside of her. If there was one feeling Kelsey hated to feel it was fear, and she could barely stand herself now, as this quivering mass of nerves she had become, standing up from the floor feeling sick to her stomach and sweating lightly.

She quickly made her way to the back of the apartment, avoiding looking into the bathroom as she passed it. Her bedroom was just as she left it, to her relief; only one part of the house was unusual, at least. The phone sat waiting for her on the nightstand, the faux wood of it smooth beneath her fingers as she picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. She forced her heart not to sink at the silence she heard on the line. Disconnected; of course it was disconnected! Whoever this Walter Sullivan was clearly would never let her get a way of contacting anyone! She was, officially, cut off from the world…

Unless there was someone on the other side of that hole, it had to lead somewhere, she was sure; she could only hope that it wouldn't lead to her death.

Kelsey had never been one to trust blind fate, but as she edged her way into the bathroom now, focused her wide eyes on the dark passage as her heart constricted in her chest, she knew she had no choice but to just go with it. It had to lead somewhere, whether it be outside or to Walter Sullivan… Well, it was time to find out.

She stepped up to it, and the whispers came again, loud and haunting and when she closed her eyes they were still there, as was the hole. She tried not to notice how endless it looked as she stuck a trembling hand inside of it, noticing instantly the way it was swallowed by the shadows. Barely visible now… She quickly drew it back and held it to her chest.

She refused to go in there defenseless; because the knife seemed to have been too weak of a weapon to her addled mind she opted for the strong steel pipe that hung down from the top of the hole, a pipe that must have been a water line before this portion of the wall had been destroyed through…She didn't even know, and wouldn't even think of it. It was about a foot long and sturdy, easy enough for her to carry… she hoped. It came down easily enough; with a twist of her wrist she had it in her hands, the cool surface of it reassuring her already.

Now armed she tentatively stuck her hand back inside of the hole and laid it on the surprisingly smooth ground. How was it so smooth? She wanted to know, but hen again she really didn't; some things were better to be left in the dark…literally.

She took one more deep breath, one more moment to bask in the bathroom's artificial light before she pushed herself up into the hole, into the darkness that continued to whisper its secrets at her.

It seemed to get colder in the darkness, or was that just her paranoia distorting things again? She did not—could not—dwell on it, but simply forced herself to move, the top of the hole barely scraping the top of her head and back as she started to move along on her hands and knees in a blind crawl.

It seemed to her almost like a sewage tunnel and the ground beneath her hands was smooth if not slightly wet and slimy. Could it possibly lead to the sewers…? In the terrifying darkness she grimaced; she hoped not! She tried not to think of it as her loud breaths and the repeated clanking of her pipe hitting the stone ground broke the silence around her, blended with the whispers that refused to recede. There were no signs of light yet.

She could not help but compare herself to Alice in Alice in Wonderland, venturing further and further into the 'rabbit's hole'. But what kind of Wonderland would she find at the end? The darkness that surrounded her suggested nothing good…How long would it take before she fell? She didn't want it to happen…

It was too late to turn back; the dark pressed in the front and back of her, all sides like a cage, an invisible barricade she was hesitant to go through. Would it ever end? Her breathing was becoming more rapid, claustrophobia beginning to set in inside of her. She had never been claustrophobic before now…

Her knees were hurting and her arms ached by the time she finally saw it: a thin shaft of light at the end of the tunnel. So it had an end after all; she was sure that she had never felt such relief.

As she crawled closer and closer, pulled and pushed herself to continue, the light seemed to intensify, burning her eyes until it became almost painful to look at. She had to look down after awhile, avert her eyes as she called closer, wishing she could see again, almost wishing for the darkness to come back. Which was worse really; the darkness or the light? The light could blind and the dark could hide; both were equally deadly. But at this moment, as the light burned her vision even more, she determined that the light was worse.

She was directly within it now, having to squint her eyes almost completely shut to see past the radiance that seemed to have no source. There seemed to be nothing ahead but more and more light. Her muscles burned, the pipe was shining too brightly and she was beginning to feel dizzy. She could only keep inching forward desperately, inch by inch by inch…

It was a relief when suddenly she was plunging forward, finally falling down that rabbit hole as the light shattered into a million pieces of darkness that fell with her, caressed her as she took them in, painless and comforting. And in the darkness, for the first time, she was gone.

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Please feel free to review; i'd love to hear what you think, although flaming for this story will not be tolerated. My heart couldn't take it!


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